


Good Fortune 8

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Multiple Partners, Series: Good Fortune, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:11:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Blair's rescue, Jim and Simon must deal with the strain on their relationship.<br/>This story is a sequel to Good Fortune 7.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Fortune 8

## Good Fortune 8

by Grey

Author's webpage: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

Disclaimer: Not mine. 

Summary: After making sure Blair's safe, Jim and Simon do something about the strain between them. 

Notes: Thanks to Jenn aka XFreak for all her support. 

Warnings: Hurt/comfort and angst for those who enjoy that sort of diet. 

* * *

Good Fortune 8  
By Grey 

Jim squinted in the fluorescent light of the hospital bathroom, the painful spikes to his vision competing with a throbbing headache for attention. Washing his hands, he glanced at the mirror and frowned. Shadows darkened his whiskers, his bruised eyes staring back with derision. He should've been more careful, known that Blair would be with Burke and be vulnerable. Instead he'd almost lost him. Jim fisted his hands as he took several deep breaths before he turned off the light and stepped back into Blair's room. 

Simon glanced up, his face worn with fatigue, his ebony skin shaded even more by the low light by the bedside. Jim whispered, "Why don't you go home and get some sleep? You've got meetings in the morning. I'll stay here and call you if anything happens." 

Shaking his head, Simon looked back at the sleeping figure, Blair's face pale but peaceful. "I couldn't sleep anyway." Meeting Jim's gaze again, he added, "You can go home though. You look done in." 

"Check out the mirror. I think we're even." Jim pulled over the second chair and sat next to Simon, glad the doctors took their presence as police protection and not a complete annoyance. 

After several more long moments, Simon spoke in a hush. "Maybe I will go for coffee. You want anything to eat?" 

"I'm not hungry, but coffee sounds good." 

"I'll be back in a minute." Simon stood and paused at the bed's edge. Reaching over the rail, he gently palmed the side of his lover's face. "Take care of him while I'm gone." 

Jim didn't answer, didn't need to. As soon as the older man left, Jim focused on Blair, his partner's vitals stable, his hair cleaned up and pulled back. A stark bandage covered the stitches to the left side of his scalp, but only a small amount of hair sacrificed itself to the procedure. After a few days, no one would even see it, no one but Jim. He swallowed hard, taking in the subtle changes of color around the wound, the flesh swollen and purple, the curly strands lighter and more reddish from disinfecting. A harder blow from Mansfield and Blair wouldn't be breathing. 

A shudder shook his body right before he heard the soft groan and shift in the bed. "Jim?" 

Standing, Jim leaned over and took Blair's hand with both his own. "Here, Chief." 

Eyelids fluttered and drug-dazed eyes managed to stay open, but barely. "Simon?" 

"Getting coffee. He's been here the whole time." 

Blair smiled weakly and licked his lips. "I'm thirsty. Coffee sounds good." 

"Sorry. No coffee. How about some water?" 

"Sure. Okay." 

Jim pushed the button and elevated the bed a bit more and then filled the plastic glass. Holding the straw steady, he let Blair take several greedy sips before pulling it away. "Better?" 

"Yeah, thanks." As soon as Jim put the glass down, Blair asked, "So, what happened?" 

Shaking his head, Jim stroked the side of Blair's face, memorizing the sharp plane of his cheekbone, the rough burn of his beard. "There's plenty of time for that later. You're supposed to be sleeping." 

Blair closed his eyes for a brief moment, but then stared back up at Jim with renewed determination. "I need to know, Jim. What happened to Hugh?" 

Reluctantly, Jim kept his gaze and answered. "Mansfield killed him." 

Pain registered quickly. "Fuck, Jim, we were supposed to protect him." 

"I know." 

Angry, Blair slammed his fist into the bed beside him. "It's so fucking stupid." 

"Yeah, it is. I should've figured Anderson might move like he did. I fucked up. I'm sorry." 

Fingering his forehead, Blair squeezed his eyes shut, his voice choked. "It's not your fault, Jim. Nobody could've known what a head case Mansfield is." 

"Was, Chief." 

"Was?" 

"Yeah, I had to shoot him at the warehouse." 

"What about the other one? I think his name is Joey." 

"Joey Richards. He's alive and scared shitless. He's willing to testify against Anderson and Thompson." 

"Thompson?" 

"Captain Thompson from Vice. He's been working with Anderson for awhile now. He's the one who gave away Burke's location." 

"Shit." Blair bit his lower lip, his hands still fisted beside him. "This sucks, man." 

Before he could respond, a nurse walked into the room and stepped to the bed, checking the readings on the monitor with concern. "Is everything all right in here? Are you in pain, Mr. Sandburg? There are more meds ordered." 

"No, I'm fine. Just some bad news." 

A middle-aged women with dark hair and a kind face frowned and shook her head at Jim. "He needs to rest. You and your captain should wait outside, or better yet, go home and come back in the morning." 

"She's right, Jim. You and Simon go home. No offense, man, but you look like shit." 

"Even if I agreed, Simon would never go for it. Besides, you're under police protection until we find Thompson." 

"He's missing?" 

"Enough shop talk. Mr. Sandburg needs to rest, and you, detective, are going to wait outside or I'll be forced to call the doctor." 

Jim didn't have time to argue before Blair chipped in. "Okay, okay. Just give me a minute and he'll leave." 

Grudgingly she nodded and held up her index finger in warning. "One minute, gentleman, and I'm back with the needle." 

"God, what is it with nurses and needles?" 

She didn't answer the question and kept her voice dead serious. "One minute, Mr. Sandburg." 

As soon as she left, Blair touched Jim's hand. "It's okay, man. You and Simon go home. Get some rest." 

"I don't want to do that, Chief." 

"I know, but you need to." Meeting Jim's eyes, he asked softly, "Have you two worked things out yet?" 

"I'm not pissed at him anymore if that's what you're asking." 

"But how are you feeling?" 

Jim didn't look away, his words solid. "I love you, Blair. I hope you know that." 

"I do, and I feel the same way. But what about Simon?" 

"I love him, too. I didn't want to admit that, and I have to say I'm still not sure what it all means to even say it. What I do know is that I can't keep pretending we're all just good friends. There's something more going on, I just don't know what to do about it." 

"Do about what, Jim?" 

Both heads turned to see Simon blocking the doorway and holding two cups of coffee. Blair squeezed Jim's hand and smiled. "Go home, Jim, and take Simon with you." 

Simon argued and shook his head as he entered. "No way, Sandburg. We're not going anywhere." 

"Yes, you are, gentlemen. Out. Now." The nurse's stern voice carried across the room. 

Frowning, Simon put down the coffee cups. "I don't want to leave you." 

"I know, but you and Jim have to get some rest. Hopefully, when I get out of here, you two won't have to be admitted for exhaustion. Now, go home. Please. I'll see you both in the morning." 

"I'm going to put a guard outside then." 

"Fine. You're the boss, man." 

Jim smiled for the first time since the whole thing started and shook his head. "Yeah, Simon, and if you believe that, I've got some ocean front property in Arizona to sell you." 

* * *

Muscles ached with fatigue as Jim shut the door and hung up his coat. "You want a beer or coffee?" 

"No, I'm too tired to drink anything." Simon draped his coat next to Jim's and slumped down at the table, rubbing his face with both hands. "God, I'm exhausted." 

"Yeah, me, too." Grabbing a beer from the refrigerator, Jim popped the top and chugged the first half of the bottle. The image of Blair's battered body played over in his mind as he swallowed. He needed to fuzz that over if he wanted to sleep anytime soon. 

"It wasn't your fault, Jim." 

Caught off guard by the insight into his thinking, Jim leaned back against the counter as he stared down at his bottle. "I played this all wrong, Simon. I never took Burke seriously, not really. Sure he owed Anderson, but it never occurred to me Anderson would want to kill him, not for something like this. I was wrong, and it cost a life and nearly got Blair killed." 

"This thing with Anderson's been bugging me, too." 

"What?" 

Simon stood up and walked over to the window, his face serious and his voice that husky tone that teased Jim's ear. "Think about it. Anderson's only in the game for cash, but how much money can he collect from a dead man? Sure, he uses muscle to motivate the guys who don't pay up, but we don't have a single thing in his folder to make us think he'd go this far." 

"You're right. We're missing a piece of the puzzle here." 

Simon shrugged and crossed his arms as he stared out the window. "I know, but I'm too tired to think about all that right now. We'll grill Richards more in the morning. See if there's something else he can tell us about all this mess." 

Jim finished his beer and tossed it. "I'm going to grab a shower. You can take the bed upstairs. I'll sleep on the sofa." 

"I'm not going to kick you out of your own bed, Jim." 

"I'm too wired, Simon. I'm at that stage where I'm too tired to sleep. It'll just be easier if you sleep upstairs." 

"You think I'm going to be able to sleep knowing you're down here alone blaming yourself for everything that's happened?" Simon didn't move, but his voice grew hushed as he met Jim's eyes. "Couldn't we just be together? You're not the only one who's a little wound up about this whole thing." 

"You mean sleep together?" 

"I'm not asking for sex, Jim. You're not ready for that and I'm not even sure I am at this point. Sometimes it's good just to hold each other, you know?" 

Jim looked away, his body suddenly trembling. Shit. Swallowing hard, he braced himself back against the counter and shook his head. "It's been so long, Simon. It's not you. It's just difficult to let a person touch me like that. Sex is simple compared to what you're asking." 

Simon frowned as he walked over and stood next to Jim, his hand touching his shoulder gently, his voice like sanded honey. "It shouldn't be so hard to let someone love you." 

"I know, but it is." 

Nodding, Simon leaned in slowly to kiss him on the forehead and then the cheek. He traced his long dark fingers along the lower lip, the intimate touch a heated invitation. Jim closed his eyes and didn't pull away this time. "Take your shower, Jim. I'll be upstairs. It's up to you." 

As the larger man turned to leave, Jim grabbed his arm and held him still. Meeting those dark eyes, he leaned in, his lips capturing Simon's briefly. A deep shudder wracked his body, the reality of the moment like the permanence of the first kill. Bitterness swept his tongue, the heat slick and rich, like coffee and cigars with a unique undercoat of Simon. Pulling back, he placed a palm over his friend's heart. "This scares me." 

"I know." Simon caressed Jim's cheek, his large hand lifting his face. "I won't hurt you. I love you." Hooking the back of his neck, Simon drew him in for a hug. Jim's head rested on his chest as dark fingers petted over his hair and soothed him gently. "Let's go upstairs. We're both tired. We can talk about all this stuff in the morning." 

"Okay." Simon took his hand, leading him up the stairs quietly. Once at the top, Jim halted at the bedside. "I don't know if I can do this." 

"I won't do anything except hold you. I won't even do that if it's too much." 

Nodding, Jim released his hand and avoided his friend's gaze as he stripped off his clothes. He folded each piece carefully and placed it on the side chair while Simon did the same. Shoes off and down to his boxers, he lifted the comforter, crawled in, and held up the edge for Simon to join him. The mattress dipped as his naked captain slid in beside him, the older man's muscles well-defined under the mahogany skin, hard and inviting. 

Jesus. 

Jim closed his eyes, his flesh flushed, his heart pounding, his legs tensed and ready for running away. Arms surrounded him and drew him close to cradle his shaking body against the broad chest. A huge hand cupped the back of his head as Simon whispered. "Relax, Jim. It's okay." Lips brushed his hair with a kiss and the other man squeezed gently. "Sleep." 

Eyes stung in the dark as Jim finally stretched out, his left thigh resting over Simon's legs. Curled there, he spoke quietly, his voice hoarse. "Thank you." 

"For what?" 

"For saving Blair." 

"We did that together." 

"Yeah, I know. I couldn't have done it on my own." 

"Lucky you didn't have to." 

"I couldn't stand it if anything happened to him." 

"I know. You love him. I love him, too." 

"This is really confusing." 

Simon sighed and used a lazy hand to stroke Jim's upper arm. "Believe me, Jim, I understand the feeling. I never planned on falling in love with a man, much less two men at the same time. Still, I think if we work together, it can be the best for all of us." 

"You really believe that?" 

"Yeah, I do." Kissing the top of his head again, Simon took a deep breath. "Now, go to sleep. It's going to be a long day tomorrow and Blair's going to need us. We won't be worth shit if we show up dragging our asses." 

Using Simon as his pillow, Jim shifted into the delicious comfort of strong arms, a long denied pleasure. Closing his eyes he pushed away the image of Incacha on that last day in the jungle, of those sad, dark eyes as they hummed the secret connection between them. Nestled in the present, Simon's heartbeat sang in his ear, lulling him away from his losses and toward the promise of new love. 

* * *

The light stream of steady snores called him back to waking. Jim took a deep breath and opened his eyes as he turned his head. Simon lay beside him, his mouth slightly open, his handsome face relaxed. 

Jim studied his friend's profile, the broad jaw, the skin so much darker than his own, skin like rich, dark chocolate sculpted over solid bone. Without his glasses, Simon looked not only younger, but less guarded, even more attractive than before. 

Cool air chilled his skin as Jim shifted to his side and pulled up the comforter to cover them both. His hand slid down under the sheets to Simon's firm belly, the ripple of muscles against his palm exciting. Carefully, he eased his hand south to discover Simon's cock awake and twitching at his touch. The other man's breathing hitched and changed, the snoring gone, transformed to a low moan. Stroked gently, the cock grew even harder, the crown leaking in anticipation. Arching up, Simon growled. "Jim, what the hell are you doing?" 

"And you call yourself a detective?" 

A huge hand topped his as Simon urged him to continue, his eyes still squeezed shut. "Don't stop. God, that feels so good." 

His own cock responded to the needy tone, the urgent tingle of desire growing between his legs. He slipped off his boxers quickly, his balls heavy and aching for release. Rising up, he stretched himself up and over his lover, their cocks aligned, his knees braced between Simon's spread thighs. Fire raced up his spine as Simon bucked beneath him. Together, they rocked, crotch to crotch, Jim grinding and maintaining contact, the sweat slicking his chest as the rhythm increased. He thrust with a purpose, but his mind blanked to anything but the delicious pleasure surging through his cock. Air thinned in the hot spaces of his lungs, his heart hammering his chest as he matched his every move with Simon's. 

Too soon the pressure ripped through his middle, the stunning force of the spasm too much, too fucking amazing. His throat clamped down on the scream, his brain exploding into golden flecks raining down to red. His whole body jerked as he stuttered through the coming. 

Strong arms stilled him, the salty mix of sweat and semen coating the air as he struggled to breathe. Slumping forward, Jim gave in, his body too exhausted to do more than tremble. 

Later, eyes closed, he lay quietly, his face resting on firm, slick skin. 

"Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You okay with this?" 

"I started it." 

"I know, but..." 

"Then I'm okay." Taking a deep breath, Jim lifted his head meeting Simon's concerned gaze. "How about you? Are you okay with this?" 

Smiling, Simon reached up and stroked Jim's cheek with the back of his hand. "More than okay. Thank you." 

Jim smiled and leaned down for a quick kiss. "You're welcome." Shifting to the side, Jim settled beside his lover and snuggled there, his head resting on Simon's shoulder. "It's after seven. We need to go see Blair." 

"We need to shower first." 

"And change the sheets. We don't want Blair coming home to dirty linen." 

"Knowing Sandburg, it won't stay clean that long." Simon's playful tone grew serious as he asked, "You think they'll let him out today?" 

"I don't know. I hope so." Jim moved away and sat up, his knees pulled up under the comforter. He rubbed his face, the whiskers burning his palms. "When's your first meeting with IA?" 

"Not until ten. There are different teams for the Thompson investigation and the shooting, so I've got another one this afternoon. I'll try to hold them off on yours until tomorrow. You won't have any problem with clearance on the shooting, Jim. You didn't have a choice. It's just procedure." 

"I know." 

Simon placed a hand on Jim's shoulder, his voice low, but even. "You still have to see psych services sometime today." 

"I know, Simon. I know the drill. It's a mandatory three sessions after a shooting." Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, Jim rose and grabbed his robe, his body suddenly anxious again. "I hate that part." 

"The rule's in place for a reason." 

"Doesn't mean I have to like it." Heading for the stairs, Jim stopped and glanced back, his face grim. "I'm not sorry I killed the son of a bitch." 

"Maybe I should go to the sessions with you then." 

"Why?" 

"Because I'm not sorry, either." 

The end 


End file.
